Harry Potter and the Order of the Mage
by B. Peter Adams
Summary: During the summer after his fifth year, Harry James Potter inexplicably disappears from Privet Drive. Where has he disappeared to? What powers has he developed? Most importantly, how does this affect the war against Voldemort
1. Chapter One: Disappearance

Harry Potter and the Order of the Mage

By B. Peter Adams

Chapter One: Disappearance

The man in the black robes suddenly appeared on the dark street. No one knew quite how he had appeared there. By all imaginations, his appearing there should have been impossible. People didn't just pop into thin air did they? Of course not. At least, not in the non-magical world. Of course, this man being magical would explain a great deal. The least of which being how he had suddenly appeared on Privet Drive, Surrey, England.

His magical presence would explain a great many other things. For instance, why the bushes planted up and down the street seemed to wither as he walked by. Or perhaps, why the lights on Privet Drive suddenly went out. But most importantly, it explained the startled shout that came from the smallest room of number 4.

The boy who occupied this room for two months a year, drew back, with his heart racing, panicked, and quickly drew his wand. This boy, like the man on the street, was indeed magical. And he was not just any magical person. He was mysterious in his own right, an enigma of the Magical World, perhaps THE enigma of the magical world. For this boy's name was Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the single person on the Earth to have survived the supposedly unstoppable killing curse.

When Harry had been one year-old, the most feared wizard of all time, Lord Voldemort had come to his parents' hidden house, murdering them, and then attempting to turn the same curse on Harry. And yet, although the child was only one, the curse failed, rebounding upon its master, and ripping Voldemort's soul from his body for thirteen years. Since that time, Harry had come out of a number of scrapes with Voldemort. Each year, Voldemort had in some way terrorized Harry, making it his ultimate goal to kill the boy, his ultimate revenge for the pain and caused for the interval of time between that fateful Halloween in 1981, and that June night in 1995. However, as of yet the evil sorcerer had failed in all attempts.

And now, he had come to finish the job. Harry recognized the stature of the figure on the street. The robes. The glowing red eyes. The snake like face. These were all characteristics of his mortal enemy. Harry had no idea what to do. He knew he was not powerful enough to take on Voldemort. He had neither the skills nor the knowledge to succeed. While Harry waited in his room, the house shook, as the door was blasted open with little warning.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL?" Harry could hear his Uncle, Vernon Dursley shout from the den. Harry dashed down the stairs with no abandon, hoping to stop Voldemort from killing the Dursleys. However, Harry heard the incantation, _Aveda Kedevra, _and realized that he was too late to save his uncle. As he skidded into the den, he shot a few blind spells at where he thought Voldemort was. Harry missed both times, and Voldemort ceased his torment of Harry's Aunt, turning around to face his opponent.

"Well, well, well. Harry Potter. We meet again," Voldemort said, chillingly, sending shivers down the teenager's spine. "I will certainly miss our yearly encounters. Or not. _Aveda Kedavra!_"

Harry jumped out of the way of the, rolled, and shot a stunning spell at his adversary. Harry felt a shot of adrenaline go through his body, fueling his senses, heightening them. Acting purely on instinct, Harry fired a flurry of hexes, jinxes and curses at Voldemort. Harry had no idea where these powers came from. The spells rained on Voldemort so quickly, he was forced to block them with a great many shields; each spell was powerful enough to shatter his shields.

Voldemort was confused, where had this power come from? Potter certainly did not have this power or skill the last time they met, and that was approximately a month ago, at the Department of Mysteries. Voldemort knew that the boy was tiring though, and answered Harry with his own offensive. With the spells flying everywhere, the house was falling apart. Chunks of the ceiling fell around the duelists, the air filled with dust and debris, the walls lighting up in many colors. Harry was successfully avoiding the multiple attacks, for a time.

_I've got to think of a way out of this!_ Harry thought, _where is the Order? Dumbledore must have someway of detecting the events at Privet Drive!_ However, help was slow in coming. Harry could see his Aunt, hiding behind the sofa, trying not to get hit. Suddenly, a large chunk of the ceiling fell. Harry saw it in slow motion; it was going to fall on his Aunt. Harry dove, shoving his Aunt out of the path of the falling plaster. Then suddenly, pain.

Harry was pinned beneath the plaster, unable to move. "Well, well, well, little Harry Potter. How noble of you. Too bad it has been a futile move. Aveda Kedavra." Voldemort casually pointed his wand, not at his nemesis, but at Aunt Petunia, who fell to the floor, as soon as the spell hit her. It was quick, painless, and final. She was most importantly, and clearly, dead. The curse demanded that.

Harry could not believe it. The last of his blood relatives, dead. Even if he hated the woman, he fell sorrow enter his heart. Then anger. Finally, his body began to shake, and his eyes began to glow with an unearthly green hue. Magic began to come off in waves from his core, which was rapidly expanding. The plaster keeping Harry on the floor suddenly flew around him, releasing him, and going after Voldemort, as a bludger might attack a Quidditch player.

"How is this possible!?" screamed Voldemort in panic. He had only seen anything close to this raw power in Dumbledore before. And truth be told, he thought that this raw magical power was more than Dumbledore possessed. This scared Voldemort to no end.

As Voldemort dodged the plaster, Harry slowly got up, seemingly unfazed by the damage previously done. With a cry of unearthly, unbridled anguish, Harry pushed forward his hands, unleashing wave after wave of pure magical energy in Voldemort's direction. Voldemort placed shield after shield in between himself and his foe, only to have each one fall after each strike. Voldemort was tiring, and quickly. Potter, on the other hand, showed no signs of slowing down. Voldemort realized that he needed to make a move soon, or flee. Fearing failure, he chose flight. Imagine Harry's surprise, when suddenly, where his archenemy had been not a second beforehand, was nothing but air.

With a second wave of fury and anguish, Harry began shaking once more, unleashing an unfettered wave of energy from within, before an explosion. And with that explosion, Number 4, Privet Drive crumbled to the ground, a crater standing in its footstep. And along with the house itself, Harry James Potter vanished in a display of power and destruction.

Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry sat in his office, completing paperwork, and pondering the wonder of magic, life, and everything else that popped into his head. What else was an old man to do? If he had ceased his activity, his brain would have rotted long ago. At least, that was Dumbledore's opinion. And usually Dumbledore's opinions were correct.

Dumbledore sat, contemplating the silence of the castle, and harmony of the magic working in conjunction with each other to create a wondrous place. At the same time, a thought occurred to the old man that even as his surroundings were so peaceful, in other places, quite near, there existed no peace. Only war, destruction, and fear. Why, Dumbledore himself had just come back from an important mission to combat the evil that eradicated the peace; a peace that this old man so greatly craved. And he knew that others craved this peace as well. But he needed to shore up alliances, to stop this war before it truly started. Before chaos took over.

As if to illustrate his point, several alarms from various instruments on his desk began to sound. First, the intrusion alarm sounded, indicating that someone, unfriendly to the inhabitant at number 4, Privet Drive, had entered its premises. Then, as Dumbledore sat, still in shock, another alarm went off, indicating that the wards on said residence had shattered. This could mean only one of two things. Either the Dursleys were all dead, or Harry himself had died. It was now that Dumbledore sprang into action.

Leaping up from his seat, he took a hold of Fawkes' feathers. Fawkes, as a phoenix, could instantly travel anywhere through flame. "Fawkes, I believe someone needs us quite urgently right now." With a flash of fire, both disappeared from the office using the magic imbued upon Fawkes to travel through space nearly instantaneously.

Dumbledore opened his eyes, scanning the street that lay before him. It was dark, and there appeared to be no danger here. The Headmaster knew better, however; his instruments would not have sounded had there not been something severely wrong. Dumbledore saw a flash of red, and glanced up at his Phoenix, which was attempting to bring his attention to the house that lay behind him. The old man spun on his heel, and now saw the trouble on Privet Drive. There were numerous flashes of light coming from the windows. The glass of the windows were shattered, and it appeared that the house's very foundations were shaking, causing the structure itself to fall apart. Dumbledore thought it a wonder that he hadn't immediately honed in on such a disturbance on the street.

"Fawkes, alert the Order immediately! Harry's in trouble!" Dumbledore intoned, before a flash of fire alerted him to the phoenix's departure. Albus started forward, running towards the house, until he reached the edge of the property line, at which time an invisible barrier stopped him. Cursing, Albus drew his wand to take down the wards, which someone had mysteriously erected. These wards were not his own, for then he would have been granted access. Dumbledore had dealt with Voldemort's wards in the past as well, and therefore recognized that his enemy had not erected these. But then the question remained, who had erected these incredibly complex defenses in so little time? Had they previously existed without Dumbledore's knowledge somehow? These little questions nagged at the back of Dumbledore's mind.

The old man worked as fast as he possibly could, without setting off the wards. After a good fifteen minutes of work, he was just about to bring down the ward. Albus was amazed that the battle was still raging at all. Harry was putting up some fight. However, just as Albus took down the ward, somehow, miraculously, another sprung up in its place. Albus Dumbledore, one of the most respected wizards ever let out a curse, and set back into motion. However, it was only two minutes later that Dumbledore heard a cry of complete and utter anguish come from within the house. He worked faster, not knowing what the circumstances within the dwelling were.

The house appeared to still be standing, but just barely. The walls were coming down around whoever remained inside. Albus could see furious flashes of light coming from within, indicating that a battle still raged on. The man heard several pops behind him, indicating that help had finally arrived. Albus, without turning around, still working on the ward, spoke to his comrade, "Someone has placed a barrier ward on the property line of the house. I need help!"

A person with red hair stepped up, scrutinizing the spell work that made up the ward. It was Bill Weasley, curse breaker. If anybody could help crack this code, this was the man. Bill set into motion after a few moments of admiration as the complexity of the ward. Minutes later, just as they were about to succeed in taking down the ward, they heard another cry of anguish from within the house.

Albus looked in surprise; seeing that there were no longer any spells being fired. Voldemort had fled the scene, for that was Harry's cry. It was then that the ground began to shake. The very ground they stood on shook, the earthquake moving the entire street. The clouds began crowd overhead the house, pregnant with lightning. What remained of the house burst into flames, and began to deteriorate even further.

Muggles up and down the street screamed in horror as their houses shook. There were several loud pops, signaling the arrival of more wizards. Albus turned, and saw it was a mixture of Ministry Wizards. Evidently the Ministry had detected underage magic finally. Just as these wizards arrived, there was a brilliant explosion of magic, and they were all thrown off their feet, and back fifteen meters.

The tremors of the mysterious earthquake ceased, and the skies cleared, showing once more the stars. And on the plot where Number Four Privet Drive had been, stood nothing but a gigantic hole in the ground. No house, no belongings, no people, no animals, no nothing. And certainly, no Harry James Potter.


	2. Chapter Two: Awakening

A/N: I am sorry that this is a bit late, but I firmly believe that a piece of writing will not be its best if it does not sit for a while. Authors that rush out their chapters for the sake of readers will more likely than not write a sub-par story. And I want my story to be great.

Enjoy.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Mage

By B. Peter Adams

Chapter Two: Awakening

Privet Drive lay in chaos. People swarmed about; all sense of order and control had been lost. Befuddled and horrified wizards mingled with confused and terrified muggles. There were several people screaming. A group of the muggle women stood in a huddle off to the side, sobbing, their emotions taking over. A group of men stood, gazing in complete and utter horror at the hole in the ground before them.

The only person that seemed to have any inkling of any path of action was the strangely dressed man who was busy securing the perimeter of Number 4, Privet Drive. This man, old as he appeared to be, and dressed in purple robes of all things, had a purpose, and so exuded an aura of confidence that others drew into themselves. His assuring gait, his single-minded actions, and his calming attitude all helped the scene from deteriorating further. The muggles, who had absolutely no clue what was going on, felt strangely calm in this man's presence. This man of course, was Albus Dumbledore.

After the explosion rocked the street, and probably the entire town, Dumbledore sat on the ground, completely and utterly stunned. Such a display of power, one he had seen in very few wizards of that young age. If Dumbledore thought of it, he had actually never seen such a display of raw magical energy. Dumbledore was simply stunned. Then the worry crept in. That explosion could have killed Harry!

Dumbledore sprang to his feet with purpose in his step. "Hey you!" he shouted at the Ministry officials. "Could you please keep those muggles back? If there is any backlash magic, they could be killed." This was of course, less of a request than a command. "And you," Dumbledore continued gesturing to another official from the Ministry of Magic, "contact some of the Unspeakables and Aurors. There's going to need to be an investigation." Both men set off on their given tasks. After all, you did not refuse the most respected man in all of Magical England. Even if he had just gained back a bulk of that respect.

Dumbledore was easily settling into the role of a commander, of a leader. These skills were those he had picked up in the 1930s and early 1940s. That was when much of his respect had been gained. That was when he had become the leader so many people took him to be.

"Bill, come here, maybe you can help me. You are good at sensing residual magic, correct?" Bill stepped forward, pleased that the older wizard had recognized his talents, even if the situation appeared dire. "Yes sir," Bill said, "what are you thinking?" he asked.

"If Harry is indeed dead, then his magic should be around here somewhere in a residual form. That is why we need an official from the Department of Mysteries. They are bound to have someone who specializes in residual magic after death. Just look around for left over magic. I will be able to identify it as Harry's."

Bill searched and searched, and eventually found a strong aura of magic designed to kill. It was not so dark as the Killing Curse, but Bill Weasley knew enough about reading auras to read intent. His job after all depended on it. In the tombs of Egypt, every curse breaker needed to be proficient in the skill, so that they would know whether or not it was safe to proceed, assuming they could not remove the protections. And this aura held a certain ambience of harm about it.

"Sir, look at this. I don't know if it is Harry's but there is some magic here. And it is not the remnants of a Killing Curse."

Dumbledore strolled over, looking where Bill indicated. He drew in a gasp of air upon seeing the brilliance of the aura. He was impressed at the pure magical energy that permeated the spell. If he didn't know better, he would have thought that rather than using some spell, Harry had simply unleashed his magic in its purest form, bending it to his will. But that was impossible. The only magical creatures even rumored to be able to do that were the Mages of millennia past, long believed extinct, hunted down and destroyed from within.

But one thing that Dumbledore concluded from this manifestation of seemingly pure magic, was that the boy was still alive, somewhere. But evidently, and mysteriously, he had vanished from Privet Drive. How had Dumbledore come to this conclusion? Being so old, Albus Dumbledore had had a lot of time to learn, and so had learned the basics of nearly every kind of magic over his extremely long lifetime. And he knew that when a magical being died, its magical core deteriorated. Any ambient magic left from the individual would either break down or become infused in its surroundings. This is what had happened with the founders of Hogwarts, and why the castle itself was so magical. When the founders had died, the magic left over from their time there integrated itself into the very bricks of the castle. Slowly, over time, the same happened to the magic left by her subsequent students. Therefore, today, the castle of Hogwarts was truly the sum of all her previous occupants.

Dumbledore did know that he was of course no expert of the subject, however, so had essentially sent for one. Dumbledore, understanding that he could do little to help the situation, sat on an unearthed stone to wait for the Unspeakable. He did not wait long. After barely five minutes of waiting Dumbledore heard two more pops, signaling the arrival of the Unspeakable and Auror.

"Finally!" exclaimed the Headmaster. Dumbledore quickly explained to the Unspeakable his theory regarding the magic surrounding the area, and asked him to confirm his theory. The Unspeakable did several tests on the area, using some complex spells that nobody else there knew of. Even the headmaster, as learned as he was, did not recognize the magic the man was doing. While the Unspeakable conducted his business, Albus and the Auror conversed quietly.

"Kingsley, you know we need to perform memory charms on the muggles, correct?" Albus asked the member of the Order of the Phoenix.

"Yes, sir, that is a given. I have already sent word for the Obliviators. But what shall we do with this giant hole in the ground? There is too much pure magic in the air to repair the damage. Doing too much magic, I know could cause a deterioration of the existing magic, essentially destroying the remaining area," Kingsley said, "so I have no clue what to do. Even if we Obliviate the witnesses, they are going to notice such a colossal hole in the ground. It's sort of hard to miss."

"Yes, yes of course. What are we to do? Harry has disappeared somehow, leaving us to clean up this mess without knowing exactly what has happened."

"Sir, I've just found an interesting trace of magic over here, near where the back of the house was," interrupted the Unspeakable, "put these on, Headmaster, it will make it easier to explain." The Unspeakable handed the Headmaster a pair of spectacles, which were a Department of Mysteries invention. Rarely, if ever were they used by a non-Unspeakable.

The Headmaster replaced his own glasses with those offered to him, and gasped at the multitude of colors around him. There was a large amount of residual magic in the area, magic he had previously been unable to see. Most of it shared a common pattern; one he recognized as the same that he and Bill had surmised to be Harry's magic.

"Now, see here, Headmaster, this one pattern, the striped blue one, with little streaks of brown and purple? That is Harry Potter's residual magic. Many of these pieces of magic have traces of intent to heal. Almost as if, at one point in his life, Potter needed to use his magic to survive. Had he been young at the time, this might have served to strengthen his magical core. Which would explain some of the stranger circumstances surrounding the boy. However, this is not what I was bringing you here to see." The Unspeakable explained, keeping his thinking simple, much simpler than the actual theory behind his thinking. Those that had not studied this branch of magic for years would not understand it.

"That patch of black magic is of course the residual from Voldemort's curses. I recognize the pattern from my inspection of the Potter home in 1981. This is also expected. Even the boy's counter attacks and attacks, those residuals were also expected. This, however, is not anything I expected to find," The unspeakable gestured a field of magic near where he had spent some amount of time, "This residual magic, as you can see, is of a different pattern from the others. It's intent is also different. Radically different. See the slight variance between these two patterns, and yet they are nearly the same. That indicates that the same person cast the spells, but the spells' intents were different. I have surmised that this one," the man indicated the one on their left, "and this one," indicating the immediately adjacent one "are blocking wards. I believe that these indicate the wards you had difficulty breaking through when trying to gain access to the property. Now this third one, I believe, is a portal."

The Unspeakable looked at the Headmaster, waiting for Dumbledore to make the connection.

"Are you telling me, sir," said Dumbledore in as even a voice as possible, given that one of his students had seemingly just disappeared from the face of the Earth, "that some unknown person or persons has taken Harry Potter to an undisclosed location?"

"Precisely," answered the Unspeakable. "On the plus side, I have surmised, as you had previously, that wherever the boy has been taken, he is alive."

Dumbledore was visibly uneasy about this small assurance. His prized student was gone, taken by an unknown party, but they had concluded that he was indeed alive. This was a small comfort for their very large predicament.

"And the explosion?" prompted Albus, "what are your findings on the cause of that?"

"Those, are somewhat less surprising, but I cannot confirm without actually conducting tests on the boy. As I expected going into this situation, all indicators show that the boy's magical core was the cause of the explosion. For a reason that I cannot confirm without performing a test, the magical core seemed to be unstable during the duel," explained the Unspeakable.

"You are saying of course that you think that his magical core expanded somewhat rapidly," stated Dumbledore, having some knowledge of the subject, having something similar happen to himself in his youth. When he had been young, his magical core went through an expansion and the uncontained magic had blasted a hole in the wall of his room. It was on a much smaller scale than whatever Harry had done, but it was comparable.

"Precisely, although based on my previous findings, I would say that it was an extremely rapid expansion. For the excess magic to neutralize such a large area and cause such a disturbance, the core must expand much more rapidly to attempt to get this pure magic back under control. Once it is finished expanding so rapidly, the explosion happens to get rid of excess magic that it could not accommodate. I have a feeling that Harry James Potter is now a very strong wizard."

Dumbledore stood in stunned silence. This was not anything he had expected. He knew that the boy was extremely powerful already. It had shocked him in the past just how powerful the core had appeared, even at the age of eleven. And now this Unspeakable was telling him that it was possible Harry was even more powerful? It was unthinkable. But not entirely unwelcome, given Harry's task. The issue remained, however; where was the boy?

Harry felt completely, utterly tired. He could barely move, his muscles ached, and he felt incredibly warm under these covers. Blearily, Harry opened his eyes, only to be greeted by a blinding white light, to which he promptly snapped his eyes shut once more, giving a groan of pain. The sudden light had given the boy a headache.

"Aha! He's awake! About goddamned time!" came an unknown voice, assumingly in response to the groan.

"Give him a break, sir, he has after all gone through a very rapid expansion of his magical core," came a second voice, this one feminine, and kinder sounding. "Actually, judging from that fever he's running, I would say that the core is still solidifying. Almost nobody wakes up until after that stage of healing!"

"Bah! You're a Healer, you know nothing of the training this boy must go through!" answered the first voice.

Harry's eyes snapped open once again at this statement, questions flying around his head, as the second voice, apparently that of a Healer, snapped back, "But I am a Master Healer, I'm positive I know more about healing than that of a Master Warrior Mage! You keep to your specialty, and I'll keep to mine!"

"Um, excuse me," said Harry quite confused about the situation he found himself in, "but what are you talking about? What training, and where are we and—"

"He speaks!" shouted the man, who, now that Harry had taken a good look at him, certainly appeared to be a military man. He had a black battle robe on, trimmed with gold. He stood regally, very sure of his stature. On the man's soldiers were epaulets, and pinned onto these epaulets stood a few pins: three gold stars, a bird, that appeared to be a phoenix, and several gold and silvers bars. On the front of his coat, where those in the muggle military might hang medals they had been awarded, were several more pins. These were a pin of two swords crossed, two wands crossed, a hand, a bow and arrow, and a few other pins, which Harry could not identify. Overall, the man made for an impressive, intimidating stature. He was fairly tall, probably about 5 foot 11 inches tall, and had a stalwart look about him. The way he carried himself suggested a confidence that had been ingrained into his very being. He was strong, but not necessarily huge. If Harry were to guess, he'd say that the man was nimble, and could probably use that to his advantage in battle.

"Ah, young Harry, I believe I can explain that," said a third voice, which came from a man who had been calmly observing the discussion between colleagues. "The place you currently find yourself is the Healer's Ward within the Academy of Mages. I am Grand Master of the Academy, Grand Master George S. Mallory, and this man here, is Grand Master of Battle Tactics. He is in charge of all apprenticing of Battle Mages. That is why you are here. Our Order has deemed you powerful enough to train into a Mage."

"But how is that possible? I am nowhere near powerful enough to be a Mage! Mages don't even exist!" exclaimed Harry.

"Is that true? Or have we simply faded into the mists of time, fading into legend and myth, until we became little more than memory? It has happened before," stated the Grand Master. Then suddenly, "It will help you greatly in defeating the one who calls himself Voldemort."

Harry started; demanding, "How do you know of that!" he jumped up, before hissing in pain, and falling back onto his bed.

"Calm down, young one, you must rest," said the Healer, before looking at the others, saying, "Explain to him more deeply. And how our Order works. He is going to need all the help he can get."

"Alright, Healer Demkovitz. I'll give the simplest explanation I can. He will learn it more in depth anyway in his classes on the history of our Order," said Mallory, before turning to Harry and explaining, "Tom Marvolo Riddle was recruited, in much of the same manner as you have been. However, we saw the evil in his heart, and cast him out of our ranks. He then went and joined our enemies, the Sorcerers of Avalon. They, essentially, are our evil counterparts. They gave him the power that he searched for. He then went back to Earth, the very land we are charged to protect, and the rest you undoubtedly know."

Harry looked at him, surprised at Voldemort's past. This must have happened in the intervening years between when he had been in school and his first rise to power. "Alright, then, what do I need to know?" asked Harry, finally somewhat accepting. If Voldemort gained his power wherever they were, then Harry could certainly use the training these Mages would give him.

"You will recuperate from your magical expansion for the rest of the week. Please read these books in the intervening time. It will fill you in on the history of the Order of the Mages, and explain its basic organization and such. At the end of the week, I will send one of your fellow apprentices to go downtown and retrieve the items you will need to begin your training. Before becoming an Apprentice, you must complete a three-week course, which will prepare you for your training."

With that, they left, leaving Harry to his own devices. _What am I to do now? _Thought Harry. After a few minutes of thinking, Harry decided to take the Grand Master's advice and read the books the man had given him. Immediately, he was enthralled.

_The Grand Magical Order of the Mage, loosely termed, is a group formed to combat the evil of Earth. This charge was handed down from the High Elves, who are the keepers of all Magical Realms. These societies are unique in that they actually have a religion. The Mages believe that their powers were given to them to a God; their religion holds a striking resemblance to that of Christianity…_

Harry read on, learning that this Ancient Order dated back to before Merlin (Merlin was a Grand Master, serving on the Council. The Council was the ruling group of Mages, appointed by the current Supreme Grand Master Mage, the head of the Council. Upon the death of the Supreme Grand Master Mage, the Grand Assembly of Mage Masters gathered, voting from among them a new leader.

The way that Harry could best understand the ranking system was to compare it to that of the military. While in training, you used Chevrons and Rocks to denote rank, Harry currently being without rank, as he has not yet completed the mandatory three-week physical training, which would gain him his first chevron, and a master. This master would serve as his mentor, making sure that his apprentice succeeded in becoming a master. The better the apprentice did, the more respected the master would become.

A Mage Apprentice became a Mage Master upon the mastery of two subjects. The subjects consisted of Swordsmanship, Battle Magic, Archery, Martial Arts, Healing, Transformation, Defensive Magic, and Special Magic. Special Magic was essentially a whole slew of miscellaneous magic that did not fit into the other specialties.

Harry felt like he was going to spend his time in the lost City of Atlantis.


	3. Chapter Three: The Atlantean Mages

Harry Potter and Order of the Mage

By B. Peter Adams

Chapter 3: The Atlantean Mages

Harry sat, impatiently waiting in the room he'd been confined to for the past few days. He sat, waited impatiently for the person who would come, and introduce him to the world of the Mages. The world of the Mages, whose history was as illustrious as it was mysterious.

Founded my Merlin, who was the first Grand Master of the Mages, the Order of the Mage has existed for over a millennium, keeping peace within the magical community during that time. Merlin initially formed it at the request of the elves, charging man as the stewards of the magical realm they were leaving behind. The elves had not been seen or heard from on Earth ever since.

The Order has seen many wars, many conflicts, both within its body, and from the external world. It has formed through many trials and tribulations, evolving with each one. But the true history of the Mages was unknown, shrouded in secrecy, except for those in the highest ranks of the system.

That ranking system was quite simple, something Harry had been instructed to memorize before entering Atlantis. It was, for the most part linear.

In the Academy, the training institution on Atlantis formed to teach Mages, the ranking followed a linear, chevron and rock based system. At the lowest level, were the initiates, which held no insignia. A Mage held this rank during the three-week physical training course; what someone in the Muggle military may call Basic Training. Upon the completion of this three week rigorous training period, you gained one chevron, and the rank of Freshman Apprentice. After this, every 3 months, you gained a rank, Sophomore (chevron and rock), Junior (two Chevrons), Senior, (Three chevrons, one rock), and Grand Apprentice (one more rock). After this time, a Mage enters the Mage Warrior ranking system.

The Mage Warrior system has a further five levels, Mage, High Mage, Head Mage, Chief Mage, and Grand Chief Mage. The Mages no longer carry Chevrons or Rocks, but carry the Warrant Officer rankings. A Mage Warrior carrying the rank of Mage carries an insignia of one small, black square, High Mages carry two, Head Mages carry three, Chief Mages carry four, and a Grand Chief Mage carries a single black bar.

Once a Mage becomes a master of one of the disciplines in which the warriors train, they enter the ranks of what muggles would call the brass. The Mage Masters have seven levels within their ranks. With each mastery gained, a mage gains another rank. The disciplines one can master are Martial Arts, Transformative Magic, Battle Magic, Swordsmanship, Archery, Stealth, and Healing. The ranking system follows, in ascending order, Master, High Master, Head Master, Chief Master, Head Chief Master, Lieutenant Grand Master, and Grand Master Mage. Master Mages carried a gold bar, High Masters, a silver bar, Head Masters, two silver bars, Chief Masters, a gold maple leaf, Head Chief Masters a silver maple leaf, Lieutenant Grand Masters a phoenix, and the Grand Masters a silver star.

-Excerpt From _A History of the Mage Warriors_

Harry startled from his recollections as someone entered his room. He looked up, recognizing one of the Masters he had met when he first woke up, Grand Master of the Academy, George S. Mallory. The way Harry understood it, this man was the Headmaster of the school. Behind the man, trailed a young man, a teenager about Harry's age.

"Ah, Harry! All set to go?" asked Mallory, somewhat excitedly. He gestured to the teen behind him, who was dressed in the standard military dress. He wore a black suit with a single golden chevron to denote his rank. His clothing was immaculately clean and pressed, the black tie straight and his shoes shined. He stood straight; about 5 foot 9 inches tall, with brown hair that was short, shorn around his ears. He stood steady and strong, with toned muscles showing a fitness-level that was quite impressive. He was thin, with a lean body that showed how much work he'd put into his health and fitness.

"This, is Freshman Apprentice Peter Szkodny. He grew up on this island, and has volunteered to be your guide on your journey into the city center today. He will make sure that you get all of your items."

"Sir, we are going to be on furlough, yes?" asked the boy, Szkodny.

"Yes, of course."

"Well, do I have permission to change into civilian clothes then?"

"Of course, whatever you feel is necessary."

With that, Szkodny went into the adjoining room, pulling what appeared to be a (shrunken) duffel bad out of his pocket, and expanding it. When the boy came back, he was dressed in dark blue jeans and a gray t-shirt.

"Hello, Harry, I'm Peter Szkodny, and I'll be your guide today," Szkodny said, speaking as if he were a tour guide. "We will get you fitted for all the clothing that you will need, and stuff like that. Any questions?"

Harry shook his head in the negative, before gesturing to the door, and following his guide out the door, down the hall, and out the front doors of the academy.

Harry gasped at the beauty of the campus on which the Academy of Mages was situated. The trees were lush with leaves, the grass as green and thick as the turf at Hogwarts. There were birds singing sweet songs, flying through the unpolluted air, and sitting in the trees. There were people, Apprentices milling about the cobbled pathways, all dressed in the uniform of the mages. Masters were conversing with their colleagues and their Apprentices.

"Amazing, isn't it? I guess I'll start with a tour of the campus itself, since for a while you'll spend most your time here." Peter lead Harry down a path to the right, where there appeared to be a grouping of barracks. "The building you just exited is the Hospital Building, that's where we go for medical assistance and stuff like that. These barracks here are where you'll be staying. We'll be sharing a room, since I'll be your training partner. We're in the Phoenix barrack, room 18. I'll show that to you later."

They continued through the campus, with Peter showing Harry the various academic buildings and parts of campus. He showed him the forge (where they made their weapons) and the training grounds, the obstacle courses, and the marching grounds. Eventually they wound up at the main gate of the Academy. It was here that Peter finally stopped walking.

"I feel like I should explain the significance of this gate. It was gifted to the very first Mages from the High Elves, they who gave us our power. Notice the many animals on the gate, all in harmony with each other. Each animal represents a different tenet of our creed."

He gestured the right side, up which two basilisks intertwined with each other. "These basilisks represent our cunning spirit, our ability to adapt, and our icy revenge. They are our vengeful side, the side that won't let an enemy win at any cost." He then showed Harry the other side of the arch, which depicted a dragon's neck, with the dragon breathing fire upon the rest of the statues. "The dragon is symbolic of the Mage's strength and defense. Like a dragon we are fierce in battle, protective of our own, and have great defense capabilities. On the top of the arch, we have several other animals, such as the unicorn. The unicorn represents the peace we wish to bring, our diplomatic message, and our desire to not let hate enter our hearts." There of course was a plethora of other animals, and the way in which they were depicted, together and connected to each other represented the interconnectivity of life, magic, and people. "However, these are not the most important parts of the arch. See there, perched over all the animals, on a sword sticking out of the rock? That is the Mage's Phoenix. It represents our immortality, not of the body, but of our magic, our mission, and our Order. We have pledged to continue our discipline and ways, and will always rise from the ashes, much like a phoenix."

"Wow…" breathed Harry, his eyes widening with wonder, marveling at the beautiful cut stone, the crown jewel of the Warrior Mages.

"But that's not all," continued Peter, "there is a Legend that surrounds this specific phoenix. It is said that this is not simply a carved statue of stone, but a soul stone."

"A soul stone? What is a…"

"A Soul Stone is a familiar of a magical person; or at least was at some point. People say that when the Order was first formed, and this Arch, the Arch of the Creed, was given to us, there was no Phoenix at the head of it, and that sword in the stone up top? It was not there either. If you were to climb to the top, you would find that while the rest of the arch is a sturdy stone, the sword is made out of the strongest metal."

"Are you saying that the sword is a real sword?" Asked Harry.

"Of course, legend states that it is the sword Excalibur, placed there until such time that the heir of Arthur Pendragon could come to collect. We know that it was placed in Merlin's care, but lose track of the sword after Merlin's death. Most accounts have Merlin's phoenix, Didostur, taking the sword upon his death, and sealing himself within rock, waiting until the time when he can be free. He placed the sword in the rock, returning the sword to stone, and now guards over the Pendragon legacy. At least, if you believe the legends."

"That's interesting."

"Yes, but we really must continue into Atlantis proper. We have lots to do. First off, getting you a proper Mage Uniform."

With that, they continued through the arch, into a busy street, that reminded Harry strongly of Diagon Alley.

"Welcome, to Atlantis Square."

They entered a shop, which sold all the mage's uniforms, both semiformal and formalwear. There were jackets upon jackets, all surrounding the room, a rack of ties, both bow, and normal, pants were folded around the room, there were cufflinks, anything anyone would need at any official event.

"Suzanne!" called Peter, "I have someone who needs the works here!"

"Szkodny! How many times have I told you to just ring the goddamned bell?" asked a young woman, perhaps 18 or 19 years old, as she walked in from the back room. She scrutinized Harry with heavy eyes, sizing him up, examining his potential. "Well, Potter, let's go to the back room, while Szkodny here kicks around."

"How did you know my name?" Harry asked.

"I know many things" said the girl, Suzanne, quite seriously. She then snorted and continued, "Plus we don't get all that many recruits. It is a fairly restrictive and elite club we have going here."

"Oh" answered Harry, as intelligently as he could.

"Well, lets get cracking!" and with a snap of her fingers, a tape measure appeared and began measuring. It took several minutes, but eventually Harry was outfitted in everything that he needed.

He had several sets of the all black suits, styled in the way a military man might wear it. They had straps on the shoulders, from which he would eventually hang his epaulettes and pin the insignia of his rank. The pants had a black stripe down the sides, that, upon his graduation from the Academy would turn the color of his regiment. This would consist of his everyday wear while at the academy, as well as his attire for semi formal events.

His formal dress was largely the same, except for a hat, gloves, and cufflinks, all of which made his stature more impressive. The styling was more impressive, and made from the best fabrics.

The last thing that he was a outfitted with was combat clothing, which consisted of battle robes, and simple black shirts and pants, with combat boots. All in all, the clothing made an impressive sight of the normally skinny teenager.

After the clothing store, Peter gave Harry a tour of the entire city. It turned out that the city of Atlantis, as legend told it, had been at one point the most prosperous city of the world. It was a bustling capital of commerce, peace, and a grand seat of magical government. However, millennia ago, during the First War of Magi Dominance, the island city simply vanished, swallowed up by the sea.

What had actually happened was a tremendous battle between the Order of the Mage, and its defectors; the first of several uprisings. In an effort to destroy the system that had spurned him, the Dark Mage Blackwood had attacked Atlantis, intending to level it to the ground. The battle between the Dark Mage and the Mages carried on for weeks without either giving an inch. Eventually, the Dark Mage, in a fit of magical fury, unleashed his entire magical reserve, sending a tidal wave of both water and magic upon Atlantis, wiping it from an Earthly existence. To this day, no one is sure how Atlantis survived, but the fact remains, the only way to reach the city is to come through the portals.

Ginny Weasley sat, reading a book, but not actually comprehending what she read. She was worried out of her mind about a single boy, a single person, a single soul; the soul of one Harry James Potter.

Several weeks had passed since Harry had disappeared. Nobody, not even Dumbledore, had any clue about Harry's whereabouts. There had been no successful communications to, or from Harry. And that wasn't from lack of trying. They had tried countless Patroni, owls, even Fawkes. The only indication that Harry was still among the living was the numerous spells on instruments in Dumbledore's office; they still indicated a living, even healthy and thriving subject. But still, there had been an indication from neither Harry nor his captors. And so, Harry's friends simply sat, waited, and prayed.

And wait they would, for they did not know how long. But they never gave up, never lost hope. For without Harry James Potter, they could not go on.

Several Months Later, Atlantean Time

Harry quickly parried the attack that came upon him, the steel of the sword glinting in the morning sunlight, and adjusted his footing, going for the counterattack against his foe. He kept his breathing slow and steady, relishing in the exertion the battle brought him. He listened to the clang of steel on steel, as his opponent parried his attack.

"HALT!" came a shout from the dueling instructor. "I want all of you to come around, over by Senior Apprentices Potter and Szkodny and observe their delightful spar. Observe how fluent they are, how they anticipate each other's movements and correct for each move. This is how you duel, you don't get stuck in a single rhythm, you must constantly adjust for the way the duel is going at any time. Begin."

With that, Harry and Peter leapt at each other, beginning their spar once again. They went on, neither gaining an advantage over the other. They attacked, parried, and counter-attacked. They spun and kicked, battling to exertion, until finally—one of their swords went flying across the field, becoming embedded the ground.

Szkodny stood, facing Harry, without a weapon in his hand. "Do you yield?" asked Harry.

"Yes, yes. It's freaking amazing. You've surpassed my skill by now."

"I'd say that we're pretty even. 50/50 chance, you know?"

"That was amazing! You two are superb! I'd say that you will achieve your mastery in swordfighting in no time!" praised their instructor, Master Instructor George Rooney. "In fact, I'm going to recommend a Master to you, see if you can impress him enough in the exhibition next week. He's very selective, only takes our best and brightest. Have you heard of Grand Master Graustein?"

"The Grey Master?" asked Szkodny, surprised. "It would be an honor to serve under him."

"That it would be, Szkodny. That it would be. I must be going now, you two study hard for the Presentation, and Graustein may show up, hoping to take his first Apprentices in decades."

"Who is the Grey Master?" asked Harry, confused, as he'd never heard of the master.

"Oh damn, you've never heard of the Grey Master? I thought somebody would've covered it when they talked about the Massacre."

"The Massacre Voldemort engineered?"

"The very one. Legend has it, that the Grey Master was the only survivor from Voldemort's rampage. During the Massacre, Voldemort slaughtered every one of his fellow Apprentices. At that time, each master would have many different Magi live with them, receiving tutelage. Voldemort was a part of the Grey Mastery. The people in this Mastery practiced a mix of dark and light magic. One night, he decided that he would destroy our Order from within, deeming even the darkest of our users too Light for his liking. And he started with those under his Master's tutelage. He figured, these were the Darkest of our Order, and having no confidence in the strength of light magic, wanted to eliminate these first.

"And so, in the dead of night, he slit his Master's throat, and continued assassination of those in the household. They fought back, but were overwhelmed."

"Until Graustein?" Asked Harry.

"Exactly. Graustein was the only one that could challenge him in skill and power. They fought for a long time, until Graustein was overwhelmed. Voldemort left him for dead, continuing his extermination until he was finally successfully banished from our realm, and into that of the Sorcerors."

"Amazing…"

"To this day, the Grey Order is the smallest Order within ours. Since Graustein was the only survivor, he has spent the decades building his Order. But it is still very small, very selective. He is much more careful than his Master was."

"That's true. Except for one thing," answered a gravelly voice from behind them, prompting them to spin around, draw weapons and take a defensive stance. "Ah, good instincts I see. However, I never should have been able to get this close to you without your knowledge. That is one of the things I teach all my students. And the Grey Order is yet to be rebuilt. I have not seen any Graduating Apprentices that fit my fancy. But you two are perhaps the first. I have been silently observing your training, and I am impressed. Especially with you, Potter. Facing Voldemort as many times as you have, takes much more than luck. It takes skill."

"I'm sorry, but who are you?" asked Harry.

"Oh, sorry, I am Grand Master Graustein."

"Really? And you think that we would be a good fit for your Order?"

"Oh, yes, but only if you impress me during the Test. And I will make you two the youngest Masters in our History.

With that, the strange man disappeared, not to be seen by anybody, until the Test of the Apprentices.


	4. Chapter Four: The Test and the Grey Orde

A/N: A few of my reviewers have brought to my attention some concerns about the romantic pairing for Harry. I would dismiss these concerns, citing artistic license, except I have had these same concerns for fanfictions I have read. Sometimes a pairing will ruin a story for me unless it is superbly written. So I feel that I must inform these reviewers that while I intend to pair Harry with Ginny, it will be much further down the plotline, and not a large part of the plot. This Fanfiction centers not on Harry's romantic relationships, but rather his growth as a fighter and his quest to destroy Voldemort, so I firmly believe that you can enjoy the story despite the pairing. I must stress that this will not be central to the story.

Thank you,

B. Peter Adams

Harry Potter and Order of the Mage

By B. Peter Adams

Chapter Four: The Test and the Grey Order

The Test of Magi Apprentices, as it was called, occurred upon each Apprentice's graduation from the Academy. It operated both as a test, and a presentation of their skills. Any Mage within the Order that had achieved a Mastery could take on an Apprentice following this tradition.

And that is why one could find the two young Magi sparring each other in the cool, early morning. The clangs of metal on metal rang out across the field with each blow. Each parry was done on instinct, their technique nearly flawless, their footwork admirable, and their spar amazing. These two Magi, were easily the best in their graduating Class from the Academy, and some would say guaranteed to win the tournament that was a part of the Test. And that was why Peter Szkodny and Harry Potter, Senior Apprentices, were not slacking off at all, even when some of their fellows were doing so.

Suddenly, Szkodny knocked Potter down to the ground, forcing the boy to yield. "So that makes us even, yea?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, 50 to 50 each, I'd say that we're fairly even right now… think fast!" And with that response, he sprang up to his feet and flung a piece of wandless magic at his partner. That was the training method the two employed. They went swiftly from discipline to discipline, with little to no warning to the other. This method was designed to improve their reaction times, and hone their instincts. They sparred once more, this time using only a mixture of different magicks. Anything was game, as long as it was non-lethal.

The two twisted and turned, dodged and rolled, attacked and blocked. Had they been in some acrobatics competition, they probably would have taken first place. The light show from their magic was amazing, lighting up the area around them, reflecting from the walls and ground. The multi-colored lights, and resounding booms could make one confuse their fight with a fireworks display.

Harry calmly kept a clear head, knowing that if he tried too hard, his magic would flow less easily, and he'd be prone to making a mistake. And so he patiently rolled, ducked, and blocked. He saw a bolt of energy come at him and instinctually called up a shield to block it. However, before he could form a counter-attack, Szkodny sent another quick attack his way, and Harry had no place to turn and no time to block. So he caught the bolt of energy, and reflected it back at his opponent, while also sending his own attack. Harry then sent off two more swift attacks, covering wherever Szkodny could dodge into. Szkodny instinctively dove to the left to avoid the initial counter-attack, therefore falling into Harry's trap. Szkodny was knocked onto his back. Upon their agreed-upon rules, although in a real battle he could have (and would have) continued fighting, their spar ended here.

"Damn it! You always get me on that move. If only my shielding capabilities were as good as yours, then that trap would never work!" said Szkodny, incredibly frustrated.

"I'm simply using my strengths, man." Harry answered.

"I know, I know, it's still frustrating. So, I think that's it for the day."

"Yeah, I think so, but we still should run today."

"What do you think, a nice 7 miles?"

"Yea sounds good."

With that they went off for a 7-mile run, which they did to keep their endurance and aerobic capacity up. It served as an integral part of their fitness program. Their fitness program consisted of doing at least push-ups and sit-ups everyday, with weight lifting thrown in every other day. As a result they were finely toned, and in some of the best shape of their lives. While not large like some of their fellow Apprentices, they had strength, flexibility and agility, all adding up into impressive fighters.

The Apprentices looked impressive in their battle robes. Each person was decked to the nines, with battle boots, black pants that allowed for the most movement, and black shirts. Each piece of clothing had protective runes sewn into them, providing a natural defense against magical attacks.

The Apprentices had gathered in the Arena of the Mage, and today the Test of the Magi Apprentices would take place. Today, each Senior Apprentice would exhibit their skills in the hope of impressing a master. After today, these Apprentices would move into the ranks of Magi. Another honor of the Test was the rank of Grand Apprentice, an honorary rank awarded to the best Apprentice, based on votes from the conclave of Masters. While the Grand Apprentice gained little official power, they ultimately became one of the more accomplished and respected members of the Apprentice class.

The Apprentices waited nervously for the official start to the Test. The first part of the Test was traditionally a fencing tournament, but with swords instead of foils. The blades were charmed to not cause damage to those that were hit by them. They would simulate the pain that would be caused, but the pain would be phantom, and no real damage would occur.

On a platform before the entire congregation, stood the Instructors. Grand Master of the Academy, George S. Mallory, walked up to the podium, and put up his hands, calling for silence. As every person in the Stadium calmed and quieted, he began to speak.

"Welcome to the Test of the Magi Apprentices. After today, these Magi will no longer serve under my tutelage, but rather, under one of you Masters in the general ranks. My colleagues and I have worked hard to teach these young people the ways of our order, instill a work ethic, a thirst to prove oneself. We only accepted the best work possible at the Academy, and these Mages have blossomed into fighters, into healers, and into the exact kind of people we need in our Order. And so, as an exhibition of their skills, I present to you, the official opening of the Test of the Magi Apprentices!"

Cheers went up all around the stadium, and the doors blocking the Apprentices off from the general populace opened, revealing the Class. They stood straight and tall, and marched, as one lethal unit.

Harry waited for his first duel in the tournament, patiently keeping track of who had been knocked out, and who still survived. Before long, he heard his name called, and his opponent was announced as Patrick McCoy, a young man about Harry's age initially from Ireland. While McCoy was certainly an able fighter, Harry did not expect any great difficulties to come from this match.

They stepped out onto the platform from opposite ends walked to the center, and shook each other's hands. They briefly bowed to one another, before each taking five strides back, so that they were ten steps away from one another. Upon the command to draw their swords, they did so, taking a ready stance. As the whistle blew, they both remained still. While some would have immediately gone into battle, these two were experienced enough to wait the other out, to patiently wait for an attack. They circled each other, taking some chance attacks that were easily parried. Suddenly, McCoy attacked, placing Harry on the defensive. Harry patiently parried each attack, dodged and weaved, waiting, simply waiting for the perfect opportunity to counterattack. And then he saw it: in McCoy's haste to finish the duel, he had left his flank slightly opened. Harry made one fake to the opposite side before suddenly changing the direction of his attack, striking Mccoy's right side. McCoy, feeling the pain of his attack, desperately attempted to defend himself, but quickly found himself knocked onto the ground, gazing up at Harry, still parrying the attacks he was able. Even though he realized that the chance of victory was no longer in his favor, he would not give up. That mentality was trained into each and every Mage Warrior. After another minute or so, Harry saw his opportunity, and caught the hilt of his enemy's blade, flicking it upwards. The blade sailed through the air, before Harry caught it, and placed the two against McCoy's throat.

"Do you yield?" Harry inquired, as was required by the rules of the match.

"Yes, you have clearly bested me," McCoy responded. Harry then offered his hand, pulling his comrade up, before offering the blade back to its master.

The Tournament continued, going through the rounds, until both Harry and Peter found themselves in opposite brackets in the semi-finals. Which meant that if they both won, they would face each other for the title of Grand Duelist. It was one step in being named Grand Apprentice, the most skilled of this new batch of recruits. Harry watched as Peter and his opponent walked onto the dueling platform once more, one of them for the last time. They squared off, and at the go-ahead signal spun into action. They both evaded each other's attacks masterfully, and counter attacking in such a way that neither could gain advantage over the other. The two remaining Magi Apprentices, along with Peter and Harry easily made up the four best swordfighters in this group. They were all very even. It would be difficult to guess who would end up winner amongst the four.

The fight between Peter and his opponent raged for the better of ten minutes before either was able to gain an advantage above the other. Suddenly, the opponent, Jenkins, went into a furious attack, quickly making Peter move onto the defensive. Eventually, Peter found himself against a wall, with the blades locked together. It became obvious that unless something drastic changed, Peter would lose.

"Do you yield?" asked Jenkins, confident he had won.

"You haven't won yet, Jenkins." With that reply Peter set into motion once more, using the wall behind him as leverage. He leaned up against the wall, and delivered a resounding kick at his surprised opponent. In the ensuing seconds, Peter shifted his sword and removed the opposing one from Jenkins' hands, catching it and placing them against his opponent's throat, as was custom.

"Now do YOU yield?" whispered Peter.

Harry now knew that his friend had moved onto the final, and if Harry were to win his next match up, they would face off for the title.

Harry waited at the entrance, opposite his opponent, Carlos Bandoras, who he knew to be a tough fighter. Harry would not be able to hold anything back in this match if he wanted to win. Bandoras tended to be ruthless and crafty, especially with the sword.

"And our next match is between Harry Potter and Carlos Bandoras!" Upon the announcement, the two combatants stepped out onto the platform, turned, and faced each other. At the signal, Harry sprang into action, hoping to use his speed and agility to surprise Bandoras. Usually, he would wait for the moment to strike but knew that this opponent was so aggressive that his usual tactics may not work. And so, Harry attacked with a vengeance, hoping to quickly score a strike. He slashed and parried, keeping on the offensive, feeling the adrenaline course through his veins, letting his magic guide each strike, and his physical strength take care of the rest. He constantly paid attention to his surroundings, waiting for the perfect moment to go in for the final blow. Bandoras used all his skill in defending Harry's attacks, waiting for an opportunity to counter attack and perhaps place his opponent on the defensive. And then it happened. Bandoras shifted his feet slightly, and tried to land a sudden hit on Harry, forcing Harry to quickly block. Almost before Bandoras had realized his attack had been rebuffed, Harry spun behind his opponent and took out his legs, spinning Bandoras to face him, and striking the opposing sword, causing it to fall from Bandoras' hand, and thus ending the fight.

Silence reigned. Every person in the stadium remained silent, completely stunned at the skill showcased by this young Mage. They had been watching all day, and this was the most skillful display yet. Harry James Potter had just made his way onto every Master's short list.

It was June, 1997, and nearly a year had passed since the disappearance of one Harry James Potter. Those close to the Headmaster and Harry had complete confidence in his return, but the general public was losing faith. Voldemort, upon figuring out that Harry was gone, most likely for a while, set into motion, conducting raids, forming armies of dark creatures, and generally submerging England into a period of darkness and fear. He spent this time consolidating his power, strengthening his forces, and instilling fear in the hearts of all magical people. As it stood, the only magical place people felt completely safe was Hogwarts.

Once or twice a week, for months, Voldemort had concentrated on instilling fear in the people. And then, suddenly, silence. And this silence confused one Albus Dumbledore. Voldemort, had, from what Albus could gather, been creating an army of the foulest creatures on this Earth. The Dementors had defected to Voldemort's side, and many other creatures had joined. It was almost Voldemort was planning a strike, a siege somewhere. But where? The only place Dumbledore could think of that could be of interest to Voldemort was Hogwarts, and Dumbledore thought that he would have attacked already if that were the case.

Voldemort sat in his chair, thinking of his grand schemes. His plans were almost ready to come to fruition. He had his host of dark creatures and Death Eaters in this forest with him, waiting for the perfect opportunity to start their siege. Eventually, he would have eliminated every path to his destruction, wiped every person who could stop him from the planet, erased their existence. He would not stop, he would achieve his ultimate revenge.

It was the final stage of the Test of the Magi Apprentices. After two weeks of constant contests, showcasing each and every Magi Apprentices' abilities, the moment they had all been waiting for arrived. The naming of the Grand Apprentice was about to take place.

Grand Master Mallory came up to the podium and looked at the sheet of paper in his hand, took a breath and announced: "It is my great pleasure to announce the Grand Apprentice of this Class. I am pleased to announce that by virtue of skill, the Apprentice to achieve the most points, beating out his training partner by one point, has been Senior Apprentice Peter Szkodny, the son of our own Lieutenant Grand Master. This here is the list of Apprentices and their scores and ranking. Good day to you all."

The Grand Master of the Academy left the podium, and all the Apprentices marched, in formation to the selection room, in which their Masters would select them as Apprentices. The way the selection process worked, each Master came up in order of rank, then by seniority, and selected up to five Apprentices to take on into their Order.

"So," said one of the Grand Masters, "I believe that I am the first to pick, based on my Seniority… so I pick—"

"And you would be wrong, Beckett, very wrong. I was a Grand Master for a whole year before you!" came a harsh voice. All the Masters parted, many gasping at the legendary Grey Master, Grand Master Graustein, one of the Council members. "And I," continued Graustein, "By merit of my rank and seniority, officially take on the following as a apprentices within the Grey Order: Szkodny, Potter, Hendel, Marx, and Cobb."

If one were to examine the list that ranked the skill levels of the Apprentices, you would see that of the 250 Apprentices, these all fell within the top 15 of the class.

"If you would come with me to the Grey Castle, we have much to do and much to discuss." With that, the five left, following their Master out the Academy, under the arch, officially becoming one of the Mages, no longer Apprentices.

Once they reached the Castle, which lay on the outskirts of Atlantis, Graustein began explaining. "You five are going to be the first of the Grey Order since it was eradicated by our Mortal Enemy Voldemort 40 years ago. I am all that is left from that Massacre. Potter here knows that Voldemort waits at home, on Earth. I have spent the past forty years learning, teaching myself, preparing for this day. I will make you five the youngest Masters in the history of our Order. This castle has a time distortion spell on it, so for every year you spend in here, only a month will have passed in the outside world. I will teach you transformative magic, elemental abilities, battle magic, and we will hone in on the skills you acquired while at the academy. You will leave my tutelage the fiercest fighting force this world has ever seen. And we will defeat Voldemort."

With that, Graustein lead them to their rooms, and instructed them to rest; they were getting up at 5:00 tomorrow to go running.

Each of them had a suite of rooms, with a study, full bathroom, and bedroom. They had a four poster full sized bed, made out of mahogany wood, as was the desk and other wooden furniture. They shared a common living room or den, with each of their personal suites branching off from the circular room. There was a great, large fireplace and mantle, in front of which were several tables, couches and chairs. All the décor was done up in a maroon-burgundy color, with grey trim. They each bid each other goodnight, and fell into a deep sleep.

At five o'clock the next morning, Harry awoke, grudgingly getting dressed. Running, he was used to; this five o'clock in the morning thing not so much. By 5:15, the five of them were waiting in the training field for Graustein, who had yet to show up. Finally, at 5:20, they saw the Master approaching them, also dressed to run.

"Ah good, nice and punctual I see! Today, we will be going for seven miles. 6:30 per mile pace. I will join you, so there is no fudging the numbers!" They set off, at quick, but steady pace. During the run, Graustein easily kept up with his pupils, as if to prove to them that he would not be pushed around, he could easily beat them; while he was older, he was also wiser and more experienced.

"As you can see," he would say after their first day of training together, "I am not your friend, but neither am I your enemy. I am your mentor, and as such, I will push you to limits you didn't know that you had. While under my tutelage, there is now such thing as taking it easy. I am giving it my all to teach you the ways of my Order, and in return, all I ask is that you perform. Failure is not an option."

"If there are no real questions, I will detail our schedule. Everyday, I expect you up and out here for 5:30. We then do a run together, after which we eat breakfast. After that, until lunch we train in non-magical combat. After lunch, we concentrate on the various magical disciplines, including elemental abilities, shadow magic, animagus transfigurations, and many other things. I should warn you, we will, while not excessively, delve into the dark arts. They are useful, not enjoyable, we are, and take pride in this status, as the most borderline order within the Atlantean Mages."

"Magic is about intent. There is no good or bad magic; only intent. This is our Creed. The Creed of the Grey Order of Magi."


	5. Chapter Five: Setting Plans

Harry Potter and the Order of the Mage

By B. Peter Adams

Chapter V: Setting Everything Into Motion

Shrouded in the shadows sat a grand throne, raised on great dais. The feet of this ceremonial seat took the form of two snakes, intertwined with each other; eight snakes supporting the structure. On the winged back was inscribed some words, unreadable by the vast majority of the population: "In Purity Lies Power."

The occupant of this throne sat, allowing the robed figures at his feet to bow, to grovel, to plead in favor of their continued existence.

"My master, what will you have us do?" whispered the one at his feet, as he kissed the hem of his master's robes. His master gazed upon his servant, and smiled. A malicious smile graced his lips, making any who dared look upon his face shudder in fear and revulsion. With a sweeping gaze around the throne chamber, he began to laugh. His laugh caused even the bravest amongst his servants to shrink in fear, their skin to crawl, a cold to set in the room.

"My dear servants," intoned the dark one at the head of the room, "today we assemble an army of the darkest, most foul creatures in existence. Tonight, our enemies will fall and I shall have my ultimate revenge. We shall set into motion a plan, that I have fostered within my mind for decades. Our collective enemies shall have no clue what hit them. Before they know it, their institutions shall fail, everything they know will crumble. And I shall rule supreme! Begin phase one, and I will begin phase two!"

With the implied dismissal, the host of servants left, most to do various tasks previously assigned to them. And the Master sat back and laughed.

"Hear my call, for I, Lord Voldemort will have my ultimate revenge…"

September 1, 1997

It had been more than a year since their friend had disappeared, and Ronald Weasley could not believe that Harry Potter was not here for their final year of Hogwarts. He gazed upon the scarlet engine that was the Hogwarts Express. This occasion was no longer as joyous as it once had been. Voldemort wrought havoc at every turn, eliminating families, tearing families apart, and shrouding all of Wizarding England in fear. Voldemort had gone on a rampage since Harry had disappeared.

As such, Aurors had been stationed on the Platform as a layer of security. They would ride the Express to Hogwarts with the students and patrol for threats: threats they all felt coming. Ron glanced towards his family, and gave his mother a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. Upon bidding goodbye, he, his sister, and Hermione boarded the train for Hogwarts. They walked the train, finally settling in the second to last carriage, where their friends Neville and Luna sat.

"Hey guys," started Neville, "rough summer?"

"Yea," answered Ginny, "It's been horrible, just training, waiting for the next attack to show." Ginny had greatly changed over the past year. While she had previously been a force to be reckoned with, she had trained herself into a ruthless warrior. With threats coming in from all directions, this group of five, commonly referred to as Potter's Circle, had thrown themselves into their training. They jointly operated the DA in Harry's absence. The DA had evolved into a respected gathering amongst the student body. They looked out for the safety of the students, patrolling and training as a kind of student army.

The train started to move, and the five of them continued to talk, trying to ignore the ominous feeling in the back of their minds. They knew that even with the Aurors here, there was still that chance of attack. And it made them uneasy. However, hours passed, the trolley lady came, and eventually they pulled into Hogsmeade Station. Every student got off the train and into a carriage; the First Years got into their boats for the traditional start of their Hogwarts careers. The carriages were half way to Hogwarts when the first spell was thrown, setting the first carriage ablaze. The carriage that the five sat in rocked as it abruptly stopped.

"Why'd we stop?" asked Ron, as he looked out the window, seeing the orange and red flickering of the blaze. "Merlin!" shouted Ron, "The carriages are being set on fire! Duck and roll!" The five of them immediately jumped out of the carriage, rolled to their feet, and simultaneously drew their wands, ready for attack. Suddenly, their carriage was lit ablaze by a blast of spell fire. Setting up some quick shields between them and the splintering wood, they sheltered themselves from the potential damage inherent in the shrapnel.

"Hurry, we need to take out the attackers! Get the other DA members to help the other students. We need to get them onto Hogwarts property where it's safe!" commanded Neville, who took control of the situation. The five of them fanned out, trying to find their comrades in the carnage. Neville crept towards the ruin of their carriage, which still smoldered from the fire. As he got nearer to the forest, he saw the spell-fire coming from an entire line of trees, which hid the attackers, who he assumed were Death Eaters, from view.

That was when he saw their assaulters. He saw the black robes and masks, so emblematic of Voldemort's followers. Without hesitation, Neville engaged the enemy, trying to take him out with a quick stunner. The spell hit its mark, but alerted the other Death Eaters to Neville's presence. Neville dodged the attacks from multiple angles, attempted to get back to the carriages, which could provide some kind of cover. A furious duel arose between some students and Death Eaters, while the younger students fled, with the help of some of the older students providing cover. But the tide was quickly turning. In favor of the Death Eaters.

"Shit!" exclaimed Neville, as he was backed into a corner. He had nowhere else to move if he needed to.

"Oh, is little Neville scared, does he not think that he will live?" asked the nearest Death Eater. Neville's blood boiled in anger as he recognized the voice, which belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange, the witch who tortured his parents into insanity. Suddenly a second wind overcame Neville, who struggled out of his corner, raining his opponent with spells and hexes. He quickly advanced on the woman, incensed. Just as he was about to overwhelm the witch, he heard a shout.

"Neville look out!" shouted Luna from across the field in which the battle took place. He quickly twirled on his heels, just in time to see a werewolf coming after him. He jumped to the side, just as the wolf was about to maul his face. Neville shifted his attention to the wolf, but quickly realized that Bellatrix had taken advantage of the situation, and started to attack him as well. Neville was now being backed into the corner that he had just vacated. Exhaustion was quickly overcoming him, attempting to defend against two simultaneous attackers at close quarters.

The werewolf lunged at him, and at the same time a killing curse was released; one of the attacks would ring true unless a miracle occurred. Suddenly, just as the wolf would strike, a blade appeared through its belly, carving up and slicing through flesh until it exited at the throat. Without pause, the blade's wielder deflected the killing curse with another sword, killing Bellatrix.

This mysterious man, Neville's savior, wore black battle robes, lined in red. The robes had several patches on the sleeves, denoting what, Neville did not know. On the man's shoulder were several pins, denoting, what Neville guessed was rank. The man bent down, and lowered his hood, looking at Neville with kind, brown eyes.

"Boy," he said, "we can take it from here. Take this portkey, which will transport you to Hogwarts. My comrades and I will begin an evacuation." The man did not give Neville any choice, simply handing the boy something, and he felt the familiar hook of a portkey behind his navel.

Neville appeared in the Great Hall, and immediately noticed the hysteria around him. All the students that had been evacuated by these strangers were running around trying to tell the professors what was happening. Just then, Dumbledore shouted for silence, and the entire congregation stilled. Dumbledore picked out Neville, who he recognized as one of the few with a level head, and immediately began to walk towards him.

"Professor," began Neville, "there's some kind of vigilante group out there fighting the Death Eaters. They're evacuating all the students that they can, it seems." Neville then looked down at his hand, noticing the shape of his portkey. It was a phoenix, gripping a miniature globe, which was wrapped by a snake, in its talons. The emblem was similar to one of the patches that he had seen on the man that had sent him here. He presented the piece to the Headmaster. "What can you make of this, sir?" Neville asked.

Dumbledore looked at the piece of metal in his hands, scrutinizing it closely. He began to pace, murmuring to himself; no person in the room had ever seen Dumbledore ponder something so much. Many had seen him deep in thought, but none had seen him react this way to a mystery. Usually he simply quietly contemplated the problem in front of him, giving his observers no clear indication what he thought. However, here, at that moment, he displayed his confusion for the entire Great Hall to see. His pacing, some thought, was beginning to wear a hole into the marble floor. It was almost like he was searching the edges of his memory for a piece of information, but it simply kept flitting out of his grasp. Every time his thoughts came close to an epiphany, the thought floated away, as if it didn't want to be known.

Dumbledore suddenly snapped his head up, and began to bark out orders to the other professors. "Count the students!" He shouted, "we need to determine how many students still need to be found! I don't know who this vigilante group is, but I trust them to send the students that they encounter this way."

He then promptly settled down into a chair, frowning over the medallion in confusion. Why couldn't he remember, he knew he had that information, somewhere in his mind. But his thoughts simply hopped right over it, very similar to how the muggles could not perceive the entrances to magical areas: their eyes simply skipped over it. And that was when the cause of his confusion became clear. Someone had done some sort of variation of these charms to hide a piece of information from him. While he knew the information, he could not access it until the correct circumstances came into being.

Dumbledore then did something that no person had ever seen him do: sigh in frustration, and bow his head in defeat. He realized that if whoever this organization was could protect information without him even knowing, there was no way for him to break the charm. And so, he decided, he would sit and wait until the time that they revealed themselves to him.

The Death Eaters attempted to scatter as soon as resistance presented itself, all while still wreaking havoc on the Hogwarts carriages. They posed a surprisingly organized and efficient force, taking out their targets as fast as they could.

"Bellatrix, take out that pocket of resistance over there!" ordered Lucious Malfoy, who had been put in charge of this mission. Bellatrix Lestrange went off to eliminate the few students in that area who were putting up a fight. Malfoy began barking out orders, all the while flinging curses left, right and center. Just as he was about to kill a young looking girl, Malfoy felt a sudden pain in his chest. He looked down briefly at the arrow that had pierced his ribcage. He looked up, just in time to see another arrow flying towards him. Thinking quickly, he apparated, back to his master, leaving his fellow Death Eaters to the fate of this mysterious enemy.

And that was when disaster struck. As soon as they began this assault, their numbers quickly began to dwindle. The unknown assailant quickly and efficiently took out the Death Eaters, by any means necessary. Some found themselves slain by archers from the woods behind them; others were cleaved in two by swordsmen. This group, of which they knew nothing about, was making quick work of the Death Eaters. Before the Death Eaters knew it, they were down to only about ten of the fifty that had been sent on this mission, and most the students had been sent to safety. Realizing that they could not win against this foe, they fled, scurrying back to Lord Voldemort.

Master Mage Michael Fillum attacked the area he had been given to guard, protecting the students to the best of his ability. He twisted and pivoted, looking at his commanding mage, Chief Master Mage of this mission, Micheal Pyrosin. He cut down each enemy that came between him and the students, while another member of his team gathered up the students and sent them to Hogwarts via a modified portkey.

The Death Eaters had no idea what hit them. They had come into this raid expecting little resistance from the students. When a few of the students began to defend the others, they simply went after these upstarts, and tried to eliminate these pockets of resistance. That was when the Mages moved in, taking this situation into their own hands. Their objective was clear: protect the students of Hogwarts at all costs.

The easiest and most efficient way to do this was to eliminate the Death Eaters as quick as they could; leave none alive to tell Voldemort of their presence, and leave the mystery of the loss of his servants unsolved. And so, Fillum attacked with a vengeance. With each slice of the sword, he took out the unsuspecting Death Eaters, giving them very little chance to fight back. And he reveled in the battle; he kept constantly alert, striking down any that came in his path.

The mission was to be done in three parts: elimination of these Death Eaters, ensure the protection and survival of any and all possible students of Hogwarts, and use the school as a base of operations. The Mage High Council, the supreme governing body of the Mages of Atlantis, had decreed that Lord Voldemort was a threat to their way of life. As such, their mission was to aid in his extermination.

And so, Fillum continued, taking out Voldemort's servants one by one, with the aid of those in his battalion. This battalion, made up of one team from each Order within the Mage system would occupy Hogwarts and use it as a base of operations for the take down of Voldemort. Within the Order there were eight Orders; each specializing in a branch of magic. There was the Light Order (which was the original), the four elemental orders (fire, water, air and earth), the transformative Order, the Healing Order, and the ever elusive Grey Order. The Light Order was the first section of the Order of the Mages to form; it specialized in the lightest of magical arts. The elemental orders specialized in manipulation of the elements. The transformative Order specialized in the magical arts that shifted the shapes of its users, and the Healing order, while still formidable fighters, operated as the Healers for the battalion. Then, the mysterious Grey Order, which had not existed for more than half a century, but had recently made a comeback to operational status. The Grey Order made use of most magical arts; dark, light, transformative, elemental, it did not matter. It melded each magic, and as such, members of the Grey Order were often the most formidable in battle. Fillum was of the Fire Elementals' Order himself, and everybody in his Order could manipulate flame to their bidding.

The battalion of twenty-eight people swiftly moved through the carnage of the burning carriages, freeing the thestrals from their bonds, and thus saving them from the flames. They sent each student they encountered to the castle, even the ones that were fighting back. Although the Mages appreciated the efforts of the groups of students helping, one of their objectives was to avoid student causalities. Student involvement ultimately led to student casualties. Therefore, as swiftly as possible, students were evacuated from the battle site.

Eventually, in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, most students of the school had been accounted for. Once the Headmaster had realized that the mysterious mercenaries were sending each and every student into the school, he instructed the populace to gather at their House tables; this would serve to expedite the counting of students. There were several students missing, but for the scale of the attack, this amount was not great. However, the missing students worried Dumbledore greatly; had they perished before help had come? Or were they simply too injured to be moved?

Suddenly, one of the ghosts burst into the Hall, through one of the walls, shouting at Dumbledore: "Headmaster, Madame Pomphrey has received several injured students in the infirmary, she says that she needs assistance!"

Everybody in the room froze for a couple of seconds, as if unsure what they should be doing. And then, once again, Dumbledore sprang into action, instructing Snape to assist Pomphrey with the potions that she would need. Snape immediately rushed up to the fourth floor infirmary, his stature as decomposed as any person in the room had ever seen him. He veritably looked rushed and worried, a state in which many of the students had never seen the man; they were used to the stony-faced potion's master being able to handle anything that came his way. This Severus Snape acted very different from the person that many had become accustomed to.

Once Snape left, the room settled back into an uneasy restlessness; the situation did not allow for anybody to relax. The uncertainty about what was going on had affected the population of the school so drastically that nobody could act normally, even if they had wanted to. The tenseness in the room persisted for about five minutes, before, quite suddenly, the front doors of the school banged open with a surrounding crack.

Into the Great Hall trooped a group of people, as one unit. Cloaked in black, and proudly displaying a wide range of weaponry, the mysterious group of warriors marched into the room, advancing on the staff table, thoroughly ignoring the students, who were mostly giving the interlopers wide berth. As the group advanced, Dumbledore rose, as if to intercept the incoming threat to his school.

The leader of the mercenary group suddenly stopped and signaled to the men and they followed his lead, coming to a halt in front of Dumbledore, who stood in front of these strangers with his wand out, and eyes and body alert and ready for action.

"Dumbledore," intoned the leader of the group, "we come in peace, and have been sent to guard the school from the followers of he who calls himself Lord Voldemort. You need not fear us, we are only doing our jobs."

"Really," exclaimed Dumbledore, as if he did not believe them, letting skepticism show on his face and in his voice. "To whom does your allegiance belong to… and who sent you?"

"Really, old man, I believe that you reasoned it out before we even arrived. But if we must clarify, we are a defensive force sent by the Grand Order of the Atlantean Mages." As he spoke, he drew back his sleeve, revealing a tattoo depicting a phoenix perched upon a globe, with a snake encircling said globe. The emblem of the Atlantean Mages.


End file.
